


Grotesque

by demented_queen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, Minor Character Death, creepy Gareth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth is looking to pick someone up, to relieve some stress, but not in a fun and sexy times way.</p><p>Rick happens to be hitchhiking.</p><p>Gareth should have listened to his mom about picking up strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grotesque

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, I drink waaaaay too much coffee and then I get all philosophical and this happens.

 

  
  
  
Gareth drove the Prius down the lonely back highway just outside of Atlanta, cursing as he hit the steering wheel over and over again.  
  
“Bitch!” he shouted once again, before trying to curb his temper.  
  
Whenever his mother wound him up, nagging him about the state of his life, berating him for the choices he made, he knew of only one thing that could sooth the demons dwelling within him.  
  
The thing that hushed the voices calling to him in the chaotic recesses of his frantic mind.  
  
He just needed to find someone, _anyone,_ to provide him that much needed solace.  
  
Although, at this time of night, Gareth was sure there would be no one who could help.  
  
He might just have to stop in at some roadside bar, where the lowliest of the human condition could be found, especially at this hour, wasting the precious wages they toil over all week, hoping to drown the memories of their own failures in cheap beer.  
  
Or maybe a bus station would be a better solution.  There were plenty of lonely souls arriving and leaving on buses in the middle of the night.  
  
Then again, he should just turn around and head back to Atlanta.  It was easy to pick someone anonymous in one of the all night bars there.  Hell, he could go to one of the many street corners and find a hustler.  They would think that they could squeeze just one more john in before final call, not knowing how _final_ that last call would be.  
  
And just as he was about to turn around, he came upon a lone figure under the light of a dim highway lamp, his thumb sticking out.  
  
Of course, hitchhikers were always the preferred choice.  
  
God he couldn’t believe his luck!  
  
He pulled over and put his game face on.  
  
It was _showtime._  
  
He leaned over to the passenger’s side, rolled down the window and addressed the man standing there.  
  
Late thirties, slight of frame and build, rather handsome actually.  
  
No one ever accused Gareth of being narrow-minded.  
  
He savored what _both_ the sexes could offer him, especially in his time of need.  
  
“Hiya,” the man drawled as he leaned into the car.  “Thanks for stoppin.’  Thought no one ever would.”  
  
Gareth regarded the man’s face.  Rugged, with a hint of stubble, curly hair brushed back, steel blue eyes, and a pleasant smile.  “Car trouble?” Gareth asked, pretending to look for the car in the distance.  
  
No car meant nothing to trace back to the man.  
  
“Well, funny you should ask.  I was visitin' a friend of mine and he was my ride and we had a bit of a fallin’ out.  I just need to get back to Atlanta,” the man grimaced.  
  
“My mother always said I shouldn’t pick up strangers,” Gareth winced, then chuckled, making himself as unassuming as possible.  
  
Always keep his prey off guard and unsuspecting.  
  
“Well, your momma was right,” the man chuckled as he held out his hand.  “Name’s Rick.  Rick Grimes.  There, now we’re not strangers.  So, how’s about a lift, huh?”  
  
“Okay, well, I can take you straight into Atlanta, since I’m heading back that way as well,” Gareth smiled.  “You can keep me company.”  
  
Rick pulled the door open and sat himself in the passenger’s seat.  
  
God he loved it when it was this easy.  
  
“So,” Gareth started as he pulled back onto the road.  “You and your friend had a disagreement?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick sighed, as he sank back into the comfort of the leather interior.  
  
“What about?” Gareth asked.  
  
He knew the road to pull off of where there was a deserted barn.  
  
The perfect place to do what he needed to do to keep the voices at bay for another day.  
  
“Good and evil,” Rick droned.  “The usual.”  
  
Gareth chuckled.  “That’s the usual disagreement nowadays?  I thought it was usually over a woman, or work.  Or football,” he scoffed.  
  
“Yeah, well, what can I say, people’ve been fightin’ ‘bout good and evil since the beginnin’ of time, Gareth,” Rick said.  
  
Oh wonderful.  The man was probably going to start some boring debate on the virtues of the church and tell Gareth about how God had a plan for him and blah blah blah.  
  
Maybe he should tell Rick God had a plan for _him_.  And it had to do with the little black duffel bag sitting in his trunk, a myriad of tools just waiting for him within.  
  
“Are you going to tell me how God is going to save my eternal soul Rick?” Gareth jeered.  “Cuz, I gotta tell you buddy, I’m probably beyond saving.”  
  
Rick sighed loudly.  “This is just how the other conversation started.  No, I won’t tell you 'bout God and the salvation of your soul.  I could give a two bit fuck ‘bout your black soul, _Gareth_.”  
  
Well, that was a new one.  
  
“Jus’ so tired of being used as a tool,” Rick groused.  “Anyway, I came out here for a bite to eat, maybe some fun.  I don’t get out much.”  
  
“Still hungry?” Gareth asked.  
  
“Naw, I ate.  ’S okay,” Rick said forlornly.  “Gotta get back to the city soon.”  
  
“Wife?” Gareth grinned.  “Or something?”  
  
“Or somethin,’” Rick pouted.  “This night’s been a bust.  Didn’t have any fun.”  
  
Gareth could almost feel sorry for Rick.  It seemed like a shame to end this interesting enough man’s life when he was feeling so melancholy.  
  
But Gareth was an opportunist at heart and watching the life drain away from Rick’s beautiful blue eyes was just as they say, ‘what the doctor ordered’ to cure him of the chaos within his mind.  
  
He turned down the desolate road leading to the barn.  
  
“This ain’t the way to Atlanta,” Rick said off-handedly.  
  
“Were not going to Atlanta, Rick,” Gareth said cheerily.  
  
“Figured as much,” Rick said.  “We almost there then?”  
  
Gareth was silent.  
  
The man’s lack of fear or panic was starting to ruin his fun.  
  
Or maybe Rick was just a master of the poker face and internally he was just as fearful and full of dread as most of Gareth’s prey had been in the past.  
  
At least, that was what he kept _telling_ himself.  
  
“We there yet?” Rick asked in a tired voice.  
  
They reached the barn, Gareth feeling as if the car ride had taken forever, when in reality it was only about fifteen minutes.  
  
This was usually the part where his fun for the night would try to run out the door, Gareth giving chase (one of his favorite parts).  Or they would wait until Gareth left the car and lock the doors (which was silly since he never left the keys in the car and would just unlock the door).  
  
Panic and alarm would only heighten the amount of confusion in his prey.  
  
People were really quite predictable.  
  
Except for Rick.  
  
Who seemed to just be content staying in the car, facing forward.  “So now what?” he asked.  
  
Gareth sighed.  “Out of the car!”  
  
“Couldn’t I just run away?” Rick snickered.  
  
“I’ll catch you,” Gareth droned.  
  
“We’ll play it your way,” Rick said as he got out of the car.  
  
Instead of making a run for it, Rick just stood there.  He even put his hands in the air.  “This make it easier?”  
  
Gareth made his way carefully around the car, watching Rick the whole time.  Maybe he planned on taking out a gun, but he didn’t see any of the tell tale signs of a weapon on him.  
  
“I don’t have a gun…or knife,” Rick said, “if that was what you were wondering.”  
  
Normally, Gareth would play this part out a bit more, relish in the fear of his kill for the night, but Rick seemed to be throwing his game off.  He pulled the stun gun out of his pocket without haste and quickly engaged the device, shooting roughly one-hundred-thousand volts through the man.  
  
“Oops,” Rick said, as the voltage didn’t even seem to phase the man.  
  
Gareth stepped back from Rick.  “How could you…I mean…that’s enough to put down an _elephant_!”  
  
“Well, Gareth,” Rick said as he laughed, “I’m not an elephant.”  
  
The younger man stood completely still as panic set in as he watched the amiable expression drop from Rick’s face.  
  
“And I thought this night would be a flop,” Rick said, his voice becoming deeper with each syllable he uttered.  
  
Gareth’s panic was replaced with terror, icy cold in the grasp of his body, the body he currently couldn’t move to save his life.  
  
Which was no doubt, coming to an end quite quickly.  
  
Rick’s eyes turned white, and his body started to make noises as the shifting of bones could be heard.  
  
He grew to eight, nine, _ten feet!_  

His teeth had become elongated and his whole head started to morph.  
  
Razor-sharp claws replaced hands, while Rick’s body settled into its final phase.  
  
This was worse than something out of a horror movie, the type Gareth watched with all his friends.  It wasn’t like any of the creatures he had seen before.  This was not a vampire, a werewolf or a even demon.  
  
And then two grotesque wings emerged from the back of his deformed back, ridged with his knobby spine.  
  
It was then, at the end of it all, well for Gareth at least, that it clicked what it was Rick had morphed into.  
  
To think he probably passed by Rick everyday on his way to work.  
  
It didn’t matter though, because before he could get the words out, maybe one final plea for his life, Rick had swiped his claw quickly and Gareth’s head was severed from his body.  
  
The last thought running through his brain before none would ever run through thereafter, was that at least he would never have to listen to his bitch of a mother ever again.  
  


  
  
Rick managed to clean himself up before making it to the main road.  
  
Luckily he and Gareth wore the same size and the young man kept spare clothing in the trunk of the car.  
  
After Shane, he had seriously thought the night would be a bust.  
  
It had been pleasurable enough to pick up that stupid sheriff’s deputy, Shane Welsh or Wish or something other.  He had hoped to play with his prey a bit longer, but the prick had made that difficult.  
  
So he had to eat and run.

And Shane had not been that satisfying.  
  
But as luck would have it, along came Gareth.  
  
And he was certainly the delectable treat.  
  
He had only a few hours of daylight left and he figured he should probably be getting back home, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a Harley rumbling down the highway.  
  
The bike pulled up to Rick and stopped.  
  
A nice looking man in his late thirties sat atop the beast of a machine.  His black hair was swept to the side and he was clad in all leather.  
  
“Hey,” Rick said.  “Thanks for stopping.”  
  
“You’re out here awful late,” the man said, his voice deep and rumbling, like his bike, which was now idling.  He then looked at the sky, which was lightening, but still had an hour or two to go.  “Or really early, depending on what way ya look at it.”  
  
“My car broke down.  Not sure where now,” Rick shrugged.  “Been walkin’ a long time.  Jus’ need a lift inta the city.”  
  
The man regarded Rick, measuring him.  “Name’s Daryl.  Hop on back.”  
  
“Rick,” he said as he stuck his hand out.  “Nice to meet you.”  
  
Rick settled himself behind Daryl, wrapping his arms around the man.  “This okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said.  Rick could have sworn he heard a smile in his voice.  “Where you headed?”  
  
“St. Patrick’s Cathedral,” Rick said.  “If we could get there before sunrise, that’d be great.”  
  
Daryl chuckled.  “What, or else ya turn inta a pumpkin or somethin?’”  
  
“Or somethin,’” Rick laughed.  
  
“I don’t see the problem,” Daryl said.  “Get ya there in no time.  Hang on.”  
  
Daryl put the bike into gear and drove off.  
  
They had a few hours to go before he had to get home.  
  
And Rick had eaten, twice already.  Maybe him and Daryl could just have some fun.  He seemed like an okay guy, not a phony like the other two had been.

A bit of conversation and a cup of coffee sounded wonderful actually.  
  
Maybe get his number so he could hook up with him next time.  
  
Rick sighed as he let the wind run through his hair, enjoying the quiet morning with this man.  
  
He only got the one night every year.  
  
Rick always tried to make the most of it.  
  
He wished sunrise wouldn’t happen for a lot longer than he knew he had, but it was only a matter of hours before he had to go back to the daily grind, a tool the church had used throughout time, to convey the concept of evil, and he would turn to stone once again until next year.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Rickyl is implied, but you can let your imagination run with it. Maybe they got it on in the church steeple, right before the sun rose and he turned to stone. And Daryl left his sunglasses perched on his nose.
> 
> And yes, Rick is a gargoyle.
> 
> LOL! I made Rick fucking Grimes a gargoyle! ;P


End file.
